The Wistful Skyline
The silver watch on your chest does not tick with the steady, reliable pulse of the city’s clock tower, but with a jagged, arrhythmic stutter that quickens whenever your breath catches in your throat, a mechanical heartbeat that has replaced the organic one since Silas hung from the gallows in the winter of eighteen ninety-two. You are Elias Thorne, a constable of the City Watch, and the fabric...
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